


Green was the color of the fire

by rockerlullaby



Category: Rigelverse - Fandom
Genre: Futile Facade Chapter 14 Spoilers, Gen, Ruse Reveal, but they're not saving the world, i'm making them team up, they're finding rigel/harry, they're the rigelverse avengers, which is about as difficult
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:20:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29244216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rockerlullaby/pseuds/rockerlullaby
Summary: A speck of Rigel's blood is found.Harry Potter runs.People follow.
Relationships: Caelum Lestrange & Harry Potter - Relationship, Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson, Harry Potter & Aldon Rosier, Harry Potter & James Potter
Comments: 21
Kudos: 63
Collections: Rigel Black Chronicles Masquerade 2021





	Green was the color of the fire

Harry wasn't sure why she was awake. One moment she was fast asleep, and the next she was staring at the ceiling as a thousand tiny needles stabbed her with a single fact: _Someone's calling for me_.

Wary, but knowledgeable of the ways of her magic, she swung her legs off the side of the bed and walked out of the room, down the stairs—and, as she did so, caught sight of the green pulses coming from the living room.

She jogged down what was left of the stair and knelt in front of the fireplace and frowned at the flickering green fire for a long moment.

Then, Harry impulsively leaned forward and accepted the call—No one would be able to walk through James' Floo wards, anyway.

"Head Auror Potter—"

"I'm coming," her father said through gritted teeth, unaware of Harry waiting for him.

"—we must have room to analyze the blood—""

"Then go your own damn department."

"This isn't even an approved chimney for outside c—"

"We were given permission to use—"

"Harry," he exhaled, cutting off the men as he finally looked at her, the green fire portraying the millimetric relaxation of his face before it went back to a stony disposition. "Gentlement,” he grunted at the men out of the Floo’s field of vision, “I'm in a call—either retreat to the Unspeakable HQ to analyze the—"

"Potter, that's confidential inf—"

"—then take it the fuck out of here, if the matter is so damn secret," James told them, using a voice Harry had never heard from him. Was this what he sounded like when she had him running circles around like a headless chicken—looking for her?

"Hey, Dad," Harry said quietly, listening to the door closing behind the Unspeakables’ retreat in the background and watching her father massage the bridge of his nose between his index and thumb,.

"Hey, Harry."

Harry shifted to a more comfortable position, sensing this might not be such a short call.

"Did you know—" He cleared his throat. "Have you ever come up with legends about Heads of House?"

Harry frowned.

"Some." When James didn't continue, she asked— "Why?"

James shook his head with an affected casualty, forcing a chuckle out of his throat.

"Just something that came to mind. My dad used to say he could recognize a Potter five times removed in a crowd just by waiting for their blood to call back to him."

It was until then that she finally caught the idea teasing the edges of her mind.

The unspeakables wanted to analyze blood—

"Dad," she whispered.

"Anyway, I've got to vacate the room for the Unspeakables. They get like little burrs whenever the other departments don't bend to their will." His glassy eyes stared into her own frozen gaze. "See you—soon."

The green light of the fire wound down until the only light left was from the angry embers, and none of it was lighting Harry.

This is why she allowed herself a minute for sobs to wrack her body—but only a single minute.

So, sixty seconds later, she summoned a light to shine on the room and stood up. her fingers touching tenderly the fabric of the nightgown her mother gifted her before taking off to her room, two stairsteps at a time.

Her mother fortuitously wasn't home—and Addy was at Remus', so she turned all of the house's lights on as she moved from room to room looking for everything she might need.

Blood testing took anywhere from five minutes to six hours, depending on the sample available.

It couldn't be a very big sample, right? She was careful— _but if I was so careful there would be no sample at all_.

_You have to go to the Rogue_ , Dom obtrusively said.

Like hell.

_They'll look there_.

Dom hummed thoughtfully. _The little snot did say you could stow away with him._

And, this time, Harry really did block him out of her conscious mind, single-mindedly focused on shoving her most bland clothes into a rucksack.

She mournfully eyed her boots. She'd get new ones in the way.

Instead, she reached out for Lily's sandals—she never wore them, she wouldn't miss them—and strapped them on.

She took off her nightgown and folded it on the bed, and put on a pair of her mother's jeans, shrunk to her size, and her father's smallest shirt, also shrunk to her size.

The nightgown stared at her innocently from the bed, and Harry finally caved and shoved it into the rucksack as well.

Five minutes later, she held a full rucksack against her side and a roll of parchment in her hand, and she cast the mental dictation spell she found for Flint.

When she left, she did so leaving six letters behind her, even one for the little one who didn't even know how to write her name.

Addy might learn before Harry was ever allowed to come back.

* * *

**AURORS IDENTIFY HEIRESS POTTER AS THE RBC**

* * *

The wall was cold against Draco's ear as his parents continued their hisses against each other in the sitting room, unaware that he was listening in.

He thought maybe _he_ was cold.

"She saved our son's life."

"She stabbed us into the fucking wall!" There was shuffling and Draco's shoulders tensed as he waited for them to speak again. "Narcissa, I swear to Merlin, if you don't let me through that door—"

"What? What will you do if I don't move?"

Father huffed, channelling his inner enraged bull, before taking a deep, deep breath.

"It doesn't matter that she saved him—"

"We owe her a life d—"

"One she used to shackle us to the floor and leave us to rot! And we did fulfill it! But she’s a girl, she can’t blame us—and it _doesn't matter_ , because she cannot save his life any more than she already did—but helping Lord Riddle find her might save him in the future."

Draco leaned out to peak when his mother didn't respond.

"We feel so impervious to mudblood interference, we don't even recognize when we act like them," she said, gelid, turning his back to Father to walk away.

Draco nearly run to his bedroom—except he didn't, because that would be acting like—

He sat down on his desk and inked his quill.

* * *

Dear Pansy,

My parents are gearing up to find Rigel.

We must do so first.

Draco

* * *

Aldon couldn't quite summon up the smirk we wanted to when he saw Pansy standing in front of his fireplace, a delicate shawl over her delicate shoulders and a steely look in her eyes not nearly concealed by the conciliatory smile on her lips.

"In retrospect, it makes perfect sense," he told her unprompted, before offering his arm and leading her to the drawing-room. "What are you looking for?" he asked her, helping her sit at he sat on the couch in front of her.

"Her."

"Well, of course."

Pansy eyed him, and this time she seemed unwilling to hide her evaluation of him.

He chuckled.

"Pansy, I love you," he promised, squeezing the hand he hadn't let go of to start with. "But I will walk out this door to go look for Harry by myself if you don't give me a direction."

Pansy sighed daintily as she fixed her shawl tighter over her shoulders.

"There's not much I can do to control my distrust when one of my best friends' life is on the line, you'll understand."

"Are you implying that I'm not your best friend?" Aldon asked, eyebrows raised.

"I said one of them," Pansy teased.

"Yeah, and the other one is Draco," Aldon replied, affecting an outraged tone.

That wrung out the tail of a true laugh from Pansy. Now, finally relaxed, she posed to share her secrets—

"Rosier!" Caelum Lestrange bellowed from the apparating room.

Aldon groaned.

"What the fuck."

"Are you friends with the Lestrange Heir?" Pansy asked, effectively keeping the disgust out of her voice. If Aldon were the one posing the question, he would've never.

"No," Aldon deadpanned, standing up to meet Lestrange, who was already halfway to the drawing-room when he caught sight of him. Which was deadass impolite.

"You consort with Potter, don't you?" Lestrange asked him, not even bothering to say hi. To be fair, that was pretty on-brand.

"I never even met her," Aldon promised. "Now, I've got business so unless you had any other business—"

Caelum shook off Aldon's hold on his arm and continued his path to the drawing-room. When he caught sight of Pansy, he sneered but nodded at her in what a biased viewer might consider a polite—if unenthusiastic—greeting. Pansy nodded back at him far more cordially.

"Lestrange..." Aldon groaned, throwing himself back onto his couch.

"You danced with her, you lying piece of shit," Caelum drawled, taking a seat in the last free couch, the three of them making up the three corners of a perfect triangle.

"Um, no? I invited her, and she coldheartedly rejected me."

"As she should've."

And _that_ picked Aldon's interest. He quickly sat up, one elbow on his knee, the other on the back of the couch, body leaning toward Caelum.

"Huh."

"What," Caelum snapped, his fingers twitching on his lap.

"Nothing," Aldon said, leaning back again once more.

" _What, Rosier_."

"Just—I thought you would be a lot less satisfied with a halfblood rejecting a pureblood."

"Different story if you were a decent halfblood."

"I think it's got more to do with the halfblood in question."

This time, when Aldon met his eyes, he caught the fear and uncertainty and burning fury hiding inside Caelum's cold looks and fumbling answers.

"She's too smart for you."

"I thought you weren't friends,"

"Stop thinking, you'll hurt yourself."

"Lestrange," Aldon said, unable to keep a laugh from wringing the asshole's name. "Fuck off."

"No," Pansy said, a thoughtful look in her eyes. "No. He can help us."

Aldon smiled, or sneered, he wasn't sure.

"Why?"

The corner of Pansy's lip twisted up into a smile. Or a sneer.

"You know why."

"Well, I don't care why," Caelum obnoxiously intruded. He leaned forward, glaring at them through his eyelashes. "But I'm not leaving."

Aldon threw his hands into the air.

"We already said we're not making you leave!"

* * *

Dearest Draco,

Do not fret—I'm taking care things.

We will meet you soon.

Dearly,

Pansy

* * *

Pansy,

Who is we?

Urgently,

Darco

* * *

_You're not my homeland anymore_

_So what am I defending now?_

**Author's Note:**

> I cranked this out this morning, so, minimal proofreading time.


End file.
